


Ours

by decidueye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, Nonbinary Character, Other, Relationship Study, Trans Male Character, possibly the most self indulgent fluff i have ever written, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 19:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14527287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/decidueye
Summary: There are a lot of things that Bokuto calls 'ours'. Keiji learns to share.





	Ours

**Author's Note:**

> as soon as i saw 'that's our tsukki!!' i knew this had to be written. it turned out nothing like what i'd expected, but i enjoyed it. thanks to robin (my fiance!!! that's some news) for the beta.

Keiji meets Bokuto for the first time when he offers them an umbrella on the first day of practice. It's only a short walk from the main building to the gyms, and Keiji is prepared to accept the consequences of not having prepared for rain. They are already halfway to putting their blazer over their head and hoping for the best when a hand lands on their shoulder and they startle, jumping.   
  
"Oh, sorry!" Bokuto says. Keiji recognises him instantly; they've been going to Fukurodani's matches all through middle school, and the few times Bokuto got to play last year he lit up the court. Keiji feels as though they're in the presence of a celebrity, but he's not even a starting player, so they bite down any impulsive words of admiration as he speaks to them. "I was just thinking - you're heading to volleyball, right? Want to share this?"   
  
Bokuto waves a flimsy umbrella in their face. It's pink and there's a cute bird on the handle, which means Bokuto probably has a sister, and it's probably hers - or he stole it. They nod, thanking him, and Bokuto immediately grabs their arm, jostling them as he pulls them under the tiny circle of shelter his umbrella provides.   
  
"How did you know I was going to volleyball?" Keiji asks. They want to step away, but there would have been no point in accepting his offer, then. Their left arm is still getting wet, and Bokuto's right arm is too, but he doesn't seem to mind.   
  
"Keychain," Bokuto says simply. Keiji should have remembered the charm attached to their gym bag. Their brother had won it in a gacha for them, and he'd spent all of his pocket money on it; how could they not display it with pride? "What position do you play?"   
  
"Setter."   
  
"Cool! I'm a spiker."   
  
"I know," Keiji says, explaining when Bokuto freezes. "I went to Fukurodani's middle school, so I saw you play last year."   
  
To Keiji's surprise, Bokuto groans. "Oh, man, really? How embarrassing...I'm gonna step up my game this year though, you'll see."   
  
"You played well," Keiji tells him, and Bokuto looks at him with wide eyes. It can't be the first time he's heard it, though. "Of course your straight spike was sloppy, but you have good technique."   
  
"I do cross-spikes! I don't need a straight spike."   
  
"You do if your crosses get blocked, Bokuto-san."   
  
"Brat," Bokuto grumbles, shoving the hand that's looped around Keiji's arm into his pocket. He only succeeds in dragging Keiji closer, and Keiji decides not to say anything now that both of their shoulders are shielded from the rain.   
  
"Who's your friend, Bokkun?" someone - Komi, the libero, Keiji recognises - calls to Bokuto when they enter the locker room. Bokuto shakes out his umbrella all over the floor, and everyone around them shouts in frustration. Wanting to avoid responsibility by association, Keiji steps to the side.   
  
"He's my mortal enemy, actually," Bokuto says. "Some first year who thinks my straights are lousy."   
  
"He's not wrong," another second year - and this one Keiji doesn't recognise, so he mustn't have played any official matches yet - chimes in, and everyone laughs when Bokuto whines.   
  
"They," Keiji says, and Bokuto looks at them.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Just - I don't like being referred to as a guy. If you can keep it neutral...I'd appreciate that."   
  
Bokuto narrows his eyes, and for a second Keiji wonders if one of the players they've looked up for is going to be an asshole. He did declare them enemies after all.   
  
"Sure," Bokuto says in the end, walking away. Keiji stares after him, and the second year who'd teased him shakes his head.   
  
"You'll get used to him...probably," he says tiredly. Keiji has no idea what any of that is supposed to mean.   
  
Keiji doesn't know if it's on purpose, but they and Bokuto are placed on opposing teams when the newcomers are given a chance to play, and of course Bokuto doesn't spike a single straight. After the first point, his crosses are blocked, and Keiji can't help but wonder where the energy they had seen during the official match had gone. When Bokuto played last year, it was as if both teams were hit with a breath of fresh air, but now Bokuto - and his teammates - move sluggish and heavy across the court. Keiji is by no means an exceptional setter, but despite their fumbled tosses their team wins by six points. They're tired, but they're not exhilarated, and Keiji leaves practice feeling a little lost.   
  
"Hey, 'Kaashi, right?" Bokuto jogs up to Keiji before they set off for home. They had thought it would just be a shower - there was nothing on the weather forecast that morning - but it's still raining. Bokuto waves the umbrella again, splashing the front of both of their shirts. "You wanna take this? I don't live that far away."   
  
"Won't your sister miss it?"    
  
"What? Oh...no, it's mine actually. I've had it for ages, since I was a kid, and it still works, so..." he laughs. "The other guys tease me too, but I don't wanna ask my parents for a new one."   
  
"I didn't mean it like that," Keiji says, a pang of guilt running through them. They hold out their hand for the umbrella. "Are you sure you want to lend it to me? I thought we were enemies."   
  
"That's exactly it," Bokuto says solemnly. "A symbol of our rivalry."   
  
"I don't understand you," Keiji responds, and Bokuto laughs and jogs away. He's drenched in seconds, but when he reaches the school gate he turns around and waves with a smile, and Keiji sees a flash of the light they'd seen in him from the stands. There's no rivalry as far as they're concerned, but they're happy to share something with Bokuto.

*

Keiji stays late to practice with their seniors, and Bokuto goes home straight after practice every week. Keiji asks him, just once, if he will practice with them, but he still hasn’t accepted one of Keiji’s tosses yet, and when he refuses Keiji gets the message that ‘rivalry’ hadn’t been a unique way of saying ‘friendship’. It rains again and Bokuto doesn’t offer them his umbrella, even though they’d taken care to wash it before they returned it to him. They swallow their disappointment and move on to establishing a good dynamic with the rest of their teammates.

Bokuto continues to draw their focus in spite of themself. A month into their first year, Keiji is yet to see the performance that they had witnessed before they graduated into high school, and they long to see that light - to know how it feels to be directly in its warmth. It looks further and further away with each practice they attend though, and Bokuto is flagging so much Keiji wonders why he hasn’t quit, if he hates the sport so much.

“You can’t force someone to do something they don’t want to,” Sarukui, a smiling second year who has taken Keiji under his wing, says with a shrug. “It’s a shame, though, he’s a good guy. I think he got sick of coach yelling at him when he stopped improving.”

“He didn’t have to stop, though,” Keiji points out, and Sarukui raises an eyebrow. The curve of his lips makes it impossible to figure out how he is judging them, and Keiji finds that surprisingly comforting.

“What a bold statement,” Sarukui muses, and then they’re called back into practice, and no more is said between them. Later, Keiji sees Sarukui laughing with a red faced, exasperated Bokuto, and Keiji sees a distance greater than the width of the court, wishing they had the chance to see what makes him react that way.

Practices blur together and nothing changes, and then Keiji’s first summer training camp throws them into the circle they’d been so eager to join from the outset. They’re surprised to be chosen - it’s only the A and B teams that get to take part, and Keiji wasn’t promoted from C until the week before. Bokuto is selected too, as well as the second years who are rumoured to be in January’s starting team, but it’s a near miss. Keiji overhears the coach scolding Bokuto outside, telling him that if he doesn’t recover his technique by the end of the camp, he’ll be off the team. Bokuto scowls and scuffs his feet on the dirt, but doesn’t respond, and he only gives Keiji a fleeting look when he passes them. Keiji wants to toss to him; this camp might be their last opportunity.

The B team share sleeping quarters, and Keiji unpacks their futon in the corner of the room with care, watching the second and third years exchange banter and feeling distinctly out of place as the youngest in the room. Sarukui waves to them, and they nod back, smile disappearing in confusion when Sarukui turns to nudge Bokuto. They both stare at Keiji for a while before pushing at each other, obviously arguing, and Keiji decides to look away to save their own embarrassment and curiosity.

Sarukui and Bokuto are friends - perhaps they could ask for help persuading Bokuto to practice with them. They don’t have much to offer him, besides the patience that their starting setter seems to be running short of, but they know that if they can just feel it - that light they saw - it would push them to a whole new level of playing. Bokuto is the player who made them care about volleyball as more than just a way to fulfill extracurricular requirements; it hurts to be so close and yet unable to give him the push that he gave them, even if he was unaware of it.

Keiji closes their backpack and steeles themself. Now is the time to ask, when Sarukui is close by and can vouch for their skills, and the rest of the team might pressure Bokuto to support his junior. It’s an underhanded tactic, but it’s not as if they haven’t given him plenty of space already, and they really do have to work together during this camp. They stand, turning towards the group, and their mouth falls open in surprise when Bokuto is already marching towards them, face red and jaw set.

“D’you wanna help me work on my straights?” Bokuto asks. It’s rushed and said through gritted teeth, and it takes a minute for Keiji to understand, processing the question while Bokuto bounces on his toes.

“Your straights?” Keiji says. “I thought they weren’t useful.”

“Yeah, well. Nothing I do is right now. And you’re the one who said that they sucked, so I figured you’d wanna help with them. It’s not every day you get to practice with a spiker like me, you know.”

He’s boasting, but his tone is flat, and Keiji isn’t sure whether he believes his own words.

“I know,” Keiji tells him, and Bokuto looks up, so visibly surprised that Keiji has to stifle a laugh. “I’d like to help, if you’ll have me.”

That’s all it takes. Aside from their already rigorous regimen, Bokuto grabs one of his friends from another team (on whom Keiji reserves judgement, because they’re just happy to be able to practice with Bokuto, no matter who it might be with), and they play for hours. Keiji tosses; Bokuto spikes, and Kuroo blocks, for the most part successfully. Keiji can see Bokuto growing frustrated, so they offer him encouragement, praising his form at the same time as they criticise his aim. Kuroo opts to rile Bokuto up, and somehow they find a balance that keeps him trying even as his bitterness sends him into a tailspin. They call an end to it before dinner ends and before Bokuto can break down completely, and as they head to the cafeteria Bokuto wobbles, leaning on Keiji for support.

“Haven’t practiced this hard since first year…” Bokuto mutters, swatting at Kuroo when he tries to poke him in the ribs. “God, I’m so unfit.”

Keiji eyes the line of the bicep slung around their shoulder and disagrees, but keeps their mouth shut about it; now’s not the time to be checking a teammate out, especially with Kuroo’s interfering gaze right beside them. “You’ll improve in time; it’s your own fault for slacking.”

“Hey, hey, I know that…!” Bokuto whines into their ear. “I never said it wasn’t.”

Keiji hasn’t been able to play much with Bokuto, but they know his habits; he’s about to sulk. 

“You shouldn’t push yourself, though. It’s clear you’ve worked hard,” Keiji relents, and that’s enough for Bokuto to brighten. He straightens up, slapping Keiji so hard on the shoulder that they cough.

“I’m gonna work harder, though, ‘Kaashi, just you watch!” he declares, bounding ahead of them. “I want our spikes to be unstoppable.”

Bokuto’s back is broad and bright, and even though Keiji’s sure he meant the team when he said ‘ours’, they feel as though they’ve been lifted onto it.

*

Practice pays off. By the time they go to nationals, Bokuto’s straights are unstoppable. Fukurodani have a power like no other, and Keiji is in awe that they get to play on the same team as him. Instead of a light, Bokuto is a fire, and he ignites something in all of them that feels explosive and almost dangerous. It’s no surprise that the coach brings him back into the starting line up, and that he quickly becomes known as Fukurodani’s ace, surpassing his graduating senior. 

What does surprise Keiji is that they’re also chosen to start. In the first game of nationals, Keiji will be setting to Bokuto, and if they play well, they could continue to do so to the end. No one else is shocked; when Keiji expresses their doubts, Bokuto laughs and Sarukui leans forward to ruffle their hair. It’s unpleasant, but they’ve learned to tolerate it from him.

“Are you kidding, Akaashi?” Bokuto asks. “Of course it’s you. This is our moment - now let’s get practicing!”

They don’t win nationals, but they come close. Their defeat in the quarter finals leaves everyone gutten and empty, but even through his tears Bokuto’s eyes are shining. They’ve been that way since the second match of the tournament, when his straight - the straight he’d been working so hard on - had won them the match. The whole team had surged forward for three days on Bokuto’s momentum, blasting through each match until their defeat, and they’d been fighting through to the end. Even then, Keiji wonders if Bokuto might have been the source of the victor’s momentum, too; his determination was infectious, and the whole court had been ablaze.

On the bus home, Bokuto wipes his nose on his sleeve, leaving an ugly trail of snot that he doesn’t seem to notice, and leans his head on Keiji’s shoulder, staring out of the window at some scene Keiji wishes they could see for themselves.

“It was our moment, ‘Kaashi,” he says, and Keiji is thrown back into the match, Bokuto’s hands squeezing their shoulders as he yells  _ I love volleyball! I’m the best!  _ into their ear. “Our win.”

“It was yours, Bokuto-san,” Keiji corrects. Bokuto’s ego is notorious, and yet he never seems to realise his own achievements. “I was just a witness.”

Bokuto shakes his head, but he doesn’t bother to explain himself, moving instead to squeeze Keiji’s hand. His palm is clammy from sweat and his fingers are wet from his tears, and it takes Keiji a moment to squeeze back.

“We’ll have plenty more,” they offer, watching the ghost of Bokuto’s smile in the window and exhaling. “I’m going to toss to you next year as well.”

*

It’s no surprise to Keiji that Bokuto is chosen as Fukurodani’s next team captain. After the first weekend post-nationals, in which Bokuto hides under his duvet and sends Keiji unintelligible texts from his makeshift tent, he comes back with a vengeance. There’s no room for defeatism on Bokuto’s Fukurodani in spite of his mood swings, only the next goal that everyone is determined to secure - for him. Keiji is no longer the only first year that stands in awe of his shadow, and there is no other candidate that can motivate the team through joy instead of fear. When the coach takes Keiji aside to tell them his decision, all they can do is nod in agreement and ask why they’re being told before Bokuto himself. 

“Well, I only want to offer it to him if you agree to be vice…” Coach says, scratching his chin and oblivious to Keiji’s clenching fists. “You’re good at reigning him in, and I’m not blind - it’s only after he started practicing with you that he got this sense of direction. We need to keep it up.”

Keiji has been taught to respect their elders, so they don’t voice their opinion that their coach must be blind if he’s underestimating Bokuto in this way. If the people around them are going to attribute Bokuto’s achievements to others, then Keiji will stay by his side to remind him that they are his own.

Bokuto, of course, knows nothing of this conversation, and he’s delighted when he hears the news, picking Keiji up and squeezing their ribs so hard they’re forced to cough.

“Just watch,” he promises the retiring third years, gripping their hands one by one. “We’ll take our team to nationals, and this time we’ll win!”

Keiji attributes the clench of their gut to the weight of the responsibility being thrust upon them, even after the way that Bokuto said  _ our team _ rings through their thoughts in the darkness that night.

*

Perhaps it’s because they’re attuned to it now, but there are suddenly a lot of things Keiji notices Bokuto referring to as ‘ours’. 

_ Our lunch _ , he says when Keiji steals some of his boiled eggs, laughing without protest. They eat the rest together.

_ Our spikes;  _ they need work, and perhaps he’s trying to pawn off responsibility like Konoha says, but Keiji doesn’t think so. Konoha doesn’t see how hard Bokuto practices when everyone goes home, or the tense of jaw when he misses. Besides, he’s much more eager to attribute the successful ones to Keiji anyway, and so it’s Keiji who pushes their shared ownership of the failures.

_ Our cat; _ Keiji points out that strictly speaking the cat belongs to their parents, and if Bokuto does own her, he should be buying her food as well. Bokuto responds by bringing five kilos of dry food and a sparkly pink collar to Keiji’s house the next time he visits, and if Keiji’s parents are surprised they don’t say anything. Sumi is the first member of the family Bokuto claims, but not the last: “I’m so proud of our brother!” he exclaims when Riku does well on his exams, and Keiji asks him if he’ll share custody of him, too. Bokuto laughs, and says that Keiji shouldn’t worry, because his big sister belongs to them too. Ichigo has a lot of cute clothes that Keiji wants to borrow, so they accept the deal with as much grace as they can muster.

_ Our kids _ ; this one takes Keiji off guard - he’s talking about the guests at training camp, a team from Miyagi that Nekoma invited. Two of them have been practicing in the gym where Keiji, Kuroo and Bokuto always set up, and one in particular has flourished under Bokuto’s guidance. Keiji’s influence is harder to see, but Bokuto insists that it’s there, and that neither of them would get anywhere without their tosses. Whilst Hinata and Bokuto enthuse about each other’s skills, Tsukishima approaches Keiji for quietness and blunt advice. By the end of the camp they’ve transformed, and even though Keiji knows the potential had been in them from the start, they can’t help but feel a swell of possessive pride when Tsukishima successfully blocks against Itachiyama, or Hinata pulls off a feint - even against their own team.

“They’re gonna be great, aren’t they?” Bokuto says, nudging Keiji when he catches them seeing the bus off. “Our kids.”

Keiji feels themself blush to the roots of their hair, and in the short time they have to think of a response they draw blanks.

“I’m not ready for parenthood yet,” they say, stalking away from Bokuto, his baffled laughter ringing in their ears.

He says it again at nationals, when Karasuno are playing Nekoma. They’ve transformed even more - not just ‘great’ but monstrous - and when Keiji sees Hinata and Tsukishima in action they wonder what happened to the first years they had met that summer. They’re exhausted, and each thud of the ball on the court rattles their brain, and it’s with a shock that Keiji realises that they’re  _ scared _ to play Karasuno.

“That’s our Tsukki!” Bokuto yells, grabbing Keiji’s arm, and everything is quiet again. Bokuto is filled with nothing but excitement and pride as he watches them - for him there’s only a love of the game, and the joy he experiences when he knows someone else has found it.

“Tsukishima isn’t ours, Bokuto-san,” they say, biting the inside of the cheek to hide their smile. All of them have come so far.

It’s Bokuto’s final spring tournament -  _ our  _ final spring tournament - and they don’t win, even if they come close. The tears feel like they won’t stop falling, and Keiji burns with embarassment and shame and guilt as Bokuto calls everyone together, wrapping his arms tightly around the shoulders of Keiji and Komi. They huddle close, and there will never be anything more special than this.

“It’s our loss,” Bokuto says, and Keiji knows he is speaking to them more than anyone else on the team. His teeth are clenched and his speech sounds painful, but it’s something he needs to get out. “They were our wins, too. Let’s remember our team as it always has been - strong!”

There’s a chorus of cheers and sobs, and Keiji takes the opportunity to hide in Bokuto’s shirt, allowing him to comfort them for just a little while.

*****

When Bokuto goes to university, Fukurodani becomes Keiji’s team. Their coach doesn’t even ask them if they want to be captain; it just happens, and someone in their year who never got to start before is made vice. It’s not that Keiji dislikes Menfu, but they can’t trust him, and they miss the knowledge that the team didn’t rest entirely on their shoulders. Fukurodani’s volleyball team is still precious to them and it always will be, but they long to share it, and the way every single member looks to them for guidance now proves that that time has passed.

It takes a month for Bokuto to get settled, and in that time they get the occasional text, but he doesn’t ask them anything about the team - just their studies, and exams, and complaints that university is too hard. Keiji wonders if he’s trying to make a clean cut, and if that means he’ll leave them behind eventually, too, but their fears are quashed when he meets them out of practice six Fridays into term, dragging them out of the locker rooms with the promise of ice cream. He holds their hand all the way to the parlour, and Keiji tries not to think too much of it, even though it’s May and it can’t be that he needs the warmth.

Keiji avoids talk of the team for a total of seven minutes, when they let slip that Onaga has been their only lunch companion as of late, and they just talk tactics. They don’t want Bokuto to feel sorry for them, and begin to make excuses, but it seems fine because Bokuto’s eyes have lit up and he shifts in his seat.

“How is it? The team? What’s your new ace like - is it Onaga or did Menfu get his act together? Are you having any trouble?”

The weight of Keiji’s captaincy is lifted from their shoulders, and they realise that even though he’s left, Fukurodani will always be Bokuto’s in some way, and if Keiji wants to share with him they need only ask.

*****

Sumi lives with Keiji now, and in her old age she seems to have gotten more active. Bokuto builds her trees out of old volleyball supplies and she tears them to shreds but he loves her anyway, sleeping with her on his chest every night. 

“She’s our cat!” he protests. “How could I turn her away?”

When Keiji tears a ligament during training, Bokuto carries them to the hospital himself, ignoring their protests that it would have been easier to take a taxi. His eyes show more pain than Keiji feels, and when he presses forward to the reception desk with a cry of ‘our knee hurts!’ they bury their face in his neck, knowing that their laughter won’t get them seen any faster.

He does all of the exercises the doctor prescribes with them, stretching his own muscles as gently and carefully as Keiji’s own, and sometimes Keiji wonders if he really does share their pain.

“You don’t have to do this,” they say. “I know it’s tedious.”

Bokuto takes their hand in both of his, holding it and regarding them with a sincerity that pulls at Keiji’s heart.

“This is our recovery,” Bokuto tells him, kissing their fingers, and Keiji hasn’t cried since their knee first tore, but now their breath is hoarse and raspy and their eyes sting. “We’re in this together.”

Keiji shares everything with Bokuto: their pets; their families; their health. It’s more than they ever could have hoped for when he first loaned them his umbrella, and the word ‘ours’ still sends them reeling, dizzy and light on stumbling feet. He says it so often they’re almost tired of it, but they’re determined to beat him just once, even if the prospect makes them so nervous they struggle to breath.

“Hey,” Keiji says as Bokuto pours over a sports magazine, so focused he doesn’t even bother to look their way when he acknowledges them. “Who do you think should be the best man at our wedding?”

**Author's Note:**

> my whole life is a love letter to bokuaka. find me on [tumblr](http://deciduice.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/deciduice).


End file.
